


it's the most wonderful time of the year

by anomalousity



Category: Young Avengers
Genre: M/M, Self-Indulgent, Sickfic, billy always gets sick on new year's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 19:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2480501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anomalousity/pseuds/anomalousity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teddy was out for hours, but Billy imagines it would have taken him that long to find a chocolate box even remotely as big. It's as wide as Teddy’s torso; when he sees the smile stretching wide over Teddy’s face, he can’t help but return it.</p><p>“This is what you were doing?”</p><p>Teddy nods. “And I got you more chicken soup from that grocery store on Seventh.”</p><p>“You’re the best boyfriend.”</p><p>“Don’t I know it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's the most wonderful time of the year

Living in New York doesn’t always bring its advantages.

Winter, for instance. There’s a pretty strong disadvantage in living decently close to the Canadian border. Shitty apartments in lower Manhattan don’t get the greatest heating, and it’s not like Billy has ever been particularly susceptible to diseases circulating his general area.

The one thing about living in New York that Billy is finding he truly dislikes is that he gets sick a lot.

Sheets of rain pound his windows as he huddles under three blankets and sips at his cocoa. Some new episode of some show that Billy’s following is playing on the television, but he’s not paying much attention as he grabs another bundle of Kleenex and blows his brains out into it. He’s cold, he’s tired, he’s miserable, and he can’t fall asleep.

Teddy said he’d come by around nine. It’s almost ten-thirty and he still hasn’t so much as called.

Every time he tries to change the channel, it’s the same display of people going to Times Square to watch the ball drop. Honestly, Billy never saw the appeal of it. Too many crowds and too many cops; he’d much rather sit in and watch it on TV with Teddy than go mash face simultaneously with a few million others possibly on camera. It feels a little too cultish, if he’s being completely honest.

Right now the camera is focusing on a couple in their thirties toting two kids and a baby as the ice-rain fogs up the camera. The woman is saying something about not expecting this kind of weather in December, and the man is agreeing with her a little too enthusiastically. Billy’s only lived here for a few months, but even he knows that shit weather happens more often than nice weather.

He’s about the flip the channel back to a rerun of  _How I Met Your Mother_ when his phone buzzes. The display flashes Teddy’s face as it buzzes again, this time accompanied by the opening bars of Bohemian Rhapsody.

Sighing, he picks it up. “Hu-llo?”

_“Shit, Billy, you wouldn’t believe the traffic.”_

“Why didn’t you jus’ take the train?” he asks around a wad of snot gathered in the back of his throat. Jesus, he feels like shit.

_“I, uh, got something.”_

Of course he did. Billy sighs again and snuggles a bit into his blankets as Teddy prattles on about finding a couple of things Billy would absolutely  _adore_ , as well as a couple of things that might make him feel a little better. He replies in  _mhmm_ ’s and  _ah_ ’s when appropriate, but otherwise feigns his interested. That is, until Teddy says he’s almost at the door and can he please come open it.

Billy tells him he’ll be there in a second before hanging up the phone. He kicks off the blankets and pushes to his feet, only wobbling a little on his feet, before walking to the door and flicking the lock. When he opens the door, he almost does a double take.

Teddy was out for hours, but Billy imagines it would have taken him that long to find a chocolate box even remotely as big. It's as wide as Teddy’s torso; when he sees the smile stretching wide over Teddy’s face, he can’t help but return it.

“This is what you were doing?”

Teddy nods. “And I got you more chicken soup from that grocery store on Seventh.”

“You’re the best boyfriend.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Billy holds the door as Teddy walks in, droplets of water getting all over the carpeting. He sets the box of chocolates on the coffee table before shucking off his jacket and heading back to the front door to pick up the two canvas bags he left sitting there. Billy sits down as he watches Teddy scramble to make soup and gather medication.

“Hey,” he says after a few minutes of just watching.

“Hmm?” Teddy replies.

“Want to go see the ball drop next year?”

Teddy glances up at him with a bemused little frown. “I thought you hated that kind of thing,” he says, before turning his attention back to whatever it is that he’s making.

Billy just shrugs and replies, “Maybe we should try it sometime,” before turning back to the television and hitching the blankets back up to his chin.

It’s eleven-oh-one according to the local news station’s clock widget at the bottom of the screen. The crowd is getting pretty rowdy; children are screaming, couples are cuddling, old men and women alike are engaging in a new brand of disturbing PDA. The camera flashes to a teenage couple huddled under a tree. The taller guy has his chin nestled onto the shorter guy’s head and his arms are folded over the shorter guy’s belly. It’s sickeningly sweet, but Billy only remarks on it because maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t mind doing that.

“Hey,” he says over his shoulder. He doesn’t wait for Teddy to acknowledge him. “Next year we should go.”

“Okay,” Teddy replies a moment later. “You’ve been sick every year, though.”

Billy grumbles his reply into a wad of tissue and rolls onto his side as Teddy makes his way out of the kitchen. He made the chicken soup exactly how Billy likes it: with an obscene amount of oregano and more broth than anything else. Teddy helps him sit up once he’s settled the bowl onto the table and tucks him into his side.

“Comfy?” he asks once they’re all good and settled.

“Sure,” Billy replies. Teddy smiles and grabs the soup and sets it in Billy’s lap, even going so far as offering him the spoon. “Thanks.”

They watch the ball descend slowly; couples kissing, children cheering, people celebrating. They smile when the hosts smile, and sigh when Ryan Seacrest comes into focus with a proclamation of this being the best New Year’s celebration to date, and that they should welcome in what is surely going to be the best year ever with positivity and fulfillment of their resolutions.

It may be a pot of bullshit, but Billy doesn’t really mind. Hell, when Teddy leans over to kiss the corner of his mouth with a quiet, “Happy New Year,” he doesn’t mind one bit.

Maybe it’s going to be okay; maybe next year he won’t be sick like he always is. Maybe he will. That won’t stop him from making it the best he can make it, and it won’t stop Teddy from being uncharacteristically cheerful about literally everything while Billy is sick during the winter months.

Because that’s just how they do things. And honestly, Billy kind of likes how they do things.

**Author's Note:**

> Yell at me on [tumblr](http://buckybaarnes.co.vu).


End file.
